


Red Wine Lips

by girlmarauders



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cape Town, Ryan and Jon, in love and in secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Wine Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [this](http://girlmarauders.livejournal.com/17643.html?thread=55531#t55531) prompt at the [bandom secret!married fest.](http://girlmarauders.livejournal.com/17643.html)

Ryan’s had too much wine. He’s been drinking a lot of wine recently. There’s something classy about red wine and being drunk on red wine is infinitely more classy than being drunk on Smirnoff Ice, which was Ryan’s previous drink of choice. As he expounded earlier today, red-wine-drunk even _feels_ different. (This was a lie but Brendon doesn’t like it when he drinks wine because Brendon doesn’t like a lot of things Ryan does.)

“Woah,” Jon says, because Ryan’s leaning on him and Jon doesn’t like red wine but he does like weed.

“You like weed,” Ryan says happily, turning his neck so he can look at Jon’s face. Jon’s not doing a very good job of holding him up so he’s mainly looking at the underside of Jon’s jaw.

“Yeah, I do,” Jon says slowly but Ryan’s forgotten what he’s replying to and has started rubbing his nose through Jon’s day-old stubble. Jon always smells good, mostly because he smells like weed a lot recently, but also because he wears cologne, which Ryan tried when he was younger but Keltie laughed at him and Spencer told him to stop being a douchebag.

Ryan’s mind might be wandering.

“Woah,” Jon says again and the whole world tilts alarmingly and then ends rather abruptly.

“You dropped me!” Ryan says, looking up at Jon. It gives him alarming vertigo, because Jon looks tall when your head is lying at his feet. Jon rubs his hand across his face, frowning. He looks confused.

“I never drop you,” Jon says. Ryan nods, mildly scraping his chin against pavement. That’s true. Jon never drops him. However, Ryan is not quite sure where they are and Zack is going to kill him if he “gets his drunk ass killed in Africa because he got lost”.

“Jon, Jon, Jon, where are we?” He asks, pushing himself on his elbows. It is vitally important that he does not get his drunk ass killed. Jon looks around. It’s dark and quiet and South Africa is surprisingly cold at night and, drunk and high though they are, Jon and Ryan are surprisingly good at wandering away from their hotel.

“There’s a cemetery right there,” Jon says. He sounds confused. Ryan sighs and pushes himself to his feet unsteadily. Jon gets confused easily when he’s high.

There’s a single streetlamp that lights the cemetery gate in the half darkness of descending twilight. It casts Jon’s face into shadow and all Ryan can see is the shape of his profile, the soft line of his jaw and arch of his cheek bone. Ryan’s doesn’t feel confident in his ability to take an infinite amount of steps so he half falls, half stumbles to Jon, grabbing his shoulders to catch himself, and presses their lips together.

Ryan will never get tired of this, never get tired of sharing breaths or the slide of Jon’s tongue against his or Jon’s hands on his waist, holding him closer, never letting him go. Ryan does get tired of the secrets, of hiding and pretending and kissing quickly, never taking their time with each other, but it’s worth it, worth it to have Jon.

They pause to breathe and Jon kisses along Ryan’s cheekbone, pulls him closer. Ryan wants to linger, to hold this moment in the palm of his hand forever. He’s drunk enough that everything feels better and Jon, Jon always feels better to him.

“I love you,” Jon says, like he always says it, like “no big deal, I love you” and Jon says it more than Ryan says it, doesn’t and has never needed Ryan to say it back, just says it when he feels it, and Ryan feels his stomach swoop with love, not just “I’m drunk love” but real love for a human, for your equal and your better and your best friend.

Jon nearly stumbles and nearly falls when Ryan kneels because he’s leaning forward for another kiss but Ryan’s not there anymore. Ryan balances rather precariously on one knee and looks up at Jon, one hand curled around the back of his knee to try and keep himself balanced.

“I love you too Jon,” Ryan says, trying to put the right weight in the words. He wants Jon to know, to know properly, that Ryan really does love him. Ryan is bad at loving people, good at breaking people, and, most of all, bad at telling people how he feels. He wants Jon to know that he loves him.

“Is this what I think it is?” Jon asks, reaching out to hold Ryan’s free hand. Jon curls their fingers together and smiles gently, slightly warily as if waiting for a punch line.

Ryan pauses. He wants to get this right. He nods.

“Yeah, yeah it is. Will you marry me Jon Walker?” He asks quietly. They'll never tell anyone, he can see it right now, they'll never tell Brendon or Spencer or Jon's parents or anyone, no one will ever know how much Ryan loved, loves Jon.

Jon gets on his knees slowly, obviously worried about falling over, and leans forward to press his forehead against Ryan’s.

“This is such a bad fucking idea Ry.” He says quietly, sadly. “But yeah, I’ll marry you Ryan Ross.”


End file.
